


seasons

by houndstooth



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, i think, reaaally brief mention of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houndstooth/pseuds/houndstooth
Summary: they continue to change.





	seasons

The transient glimpse of salvation the primal beast had shown him lingered long after the other had lifted his hand from his arm and broke the spell. A part of him had gone with it, leaving nothing but a faint ache in his chest. A tranquility that could be his. An end to the still aching wounds that all this time alone could not heal. He lifts his head to meet the primal’s eyes — eyes that seemed to understand far more than he could explain with mere words. 

“Only a little while longer,” he says, holding his hand out to Freyr. The beast on his shoulder yawns, a little burst of red flame curling forth from its maw. “Soon, you won’t have to fight anymore.”

Freyr stares dully at the offered hand. How often had he told others that? They had taken in every hopeful word he had said and held it close to their hearts. As long as they were together, they could make it. As long as they relied on one another, they could survive.

And for those he could not save, he still murmured these words to give them comfort in their final moments. Freyr had watched their eyes close and their bodies still and their forms devolve into the small spheres that held their entire being. They would stay dormant for an indefinite amount of time. Years, maybe — decades and centuries, more likely. His own words of comfort were meaningless. Nothing would change. They would wake — to what? Wanton violence and ceaseless suffering. A world still torn asunder.

Nothing had changed. 

“I wanted to protect them,” he says, looking at the ground. Even now, he could feel the warmth of their cores in his hand, the pain in their voices as they cried for the salvation he couldn’t provide, that deliverance that would never come. “I couldn’t...protect them.”

“You still can. I know that you still want to.” He’s kneeling now, a bright smile on his face. He extends his hand again. “We can do it, together.” 

Together.

His voice is so young and sure, so full of a confidence Freyr had long forgotten how to feel. He reaches for it — and he hesitates. He could refuse. He could choose to let the seasons continue and let primal beasts like him struggle to live in a world that either loathed or diminished them. If he said yes, it would be a chance. A small and uncertain opportunity, one that would require the utmost commitment. It would be a path of pain and chaos. But if salvation could be achieved — if he could succeed, protect — the pain he would have to face be would be inconsequential compared to fulfillment of the greater goal.

Freyr finds himself taking his hand. 

* * *

All is still as his consciousness sinks deep within the vast depths of Geo’s core. His thoughts freely drift away into the abyss, no longer shackled to his being. Regret, pain, longing. He cares not to hold onto them any longer than he should and each emotion that slips away leaves him feeling lighter and lighter. Only one thought lingers far longer than the rest, one that stirs a sentiment he can no longer think to name deep within his fading sense of self as it rises to the surface and begins to break away.

Her humanity had been too vibrant. It had shone like the sun, shedding light on the crevices of his core he’d long buried in shadow. A question had burned on his tongue, one he longed to ask as the attacks of Baal and Medusa bit through his armor and his sword grew heavier in his grip. 

In this life, what he wanted had not mattered. The desire he had, both by design and by his own autonomy, had been like sand blown away by the wind. The seasons had changed. The beasts had awoken, roused from their slumber by the shift in elemental presence. Skyfarers has descended upon the land in droves, eager to destroy and wreak chaos. The scars of battle had been carved into the earth and into his own heart, until he could no longer muster the strength to lift his sword to protect those who could not protect themselves. And what good was a shield that could not defend, cracked and brittle after years of use? What good a sword that could not strike, rusted and dull after years of apathy?

It’s the only piece of the conscious world that he can’t let go of so quickly, as much as he’d like to. It overtakes his being. It clings to him. It rings in his ears and claws at his chest — this burning desire to be told how to live, to be shown how to feel worthy again. They had rallied to her side. They had rejected tranquility. He wants to know — _what was it that made you so different?_

That, too, he supposes, is selfish. It is too late and too painful to be thinking of what could have been. At last, the question is wrested away from him. It is swallowed by the yawning void, only a faint ache blooming in its place. It fades into nothingness, a small pinprick of light at last smothered out of existence.

It leaves him empty. No longing. No pain. No desire. Nothing. What happens now doesn’t matter. In such a vast ocean of low whispers and soft words, he could cease to think for himself. He allows himself to close his eyes, allows himself to be lulled into a gentle slumber.

  


**Author's Note:**

> i found this in my doc drafts and found i still liked it asfdhfhg
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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